When chill winter winds buffet the juniper trees and sigh among the boughs of the piñon pines, the merry song of the Townsend’s solitaire rings out as cheerfully as any spring lark’s. Is the Townsend’s solitaire simply a jolly fool, drunk with Yuletide cheer, or perhaps befuddled by the way climate change is threatening western forests?
Townsend’s solitaires are rather drab-looking birds that nest in dense mountain forests. By the time frost crystals decorate fallen leaves, they move down-slope to the southwestern piñon-juniper woodlands. Here they become careful accountants overseeing a treasure of berries.
After finding a stand of junipers loaded with berries, a particular solitaire perches in a tall tree and announces ownership of the territory with song to ward off competitors. Singing alone is not always enough to secure a territory; occasionally competing solitaires engage in aerial battles, locking claws, beating each other with their wings, and even stabbing with their beaks.
What’s at stake is a whole winter’s supply of food. A solitaire without a winter feeding territory becomes a wandering thief sneaking berries from other birds’ territories.
Solitaires will drive off smaller berry-eating birds, but retreat when a flock of bigger robins arrives to devour berries by the thousands. A solitaire can afford to wait for the robins to leave, having chosen a territory with enough berries to cover this loss.
The solitaire soon resumes that piping melody. To us it’s not a stay-away warning, but rather an exaltation of winter’s stark beauty.
Earth Notes is produced by KNAU and the Sustainable Communities Program at Northern Arizona University.